


Chocolate Days

by PrettyOkayGatsby



Series: Uncle Patrick is Superman [2]
Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: But Patrick doesn't know, Fluff, Pancakes, Patrick is good, Pete wants him, Pre-Slash, adorable!Bronx, set a day after Just In Case, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-29
Updated: 2013-08-29
Packaged: 2017-12-24 23:41:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/946068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettyOkayGatsby/pseuds/PrettyOkayGatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick stumbles upon a little insomniac early one morning and while that's nothing new, it's not the one he’s used to dealing with. </p><p>Bronx has some questions for his Uncle Patrick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chocolate Days

Patrick walked quietly down the halls of Pete’s house, yawning into his fist as he padded down the stairs. He heard the sounds of the TV and made his way into the living room, preparing himself to deal with a grumpy, sleep deprived Pete Wentz. Instead, as he rounded the corner, Patrick was faced with the grim expression of one Bronx Mowgli Simpsons-Wentz. He was glued to a program where a boy in tights valiantly fought a ginormous sentient blob.

“Hey, buddy,” he asked, sitting himself down on the arm of the couch. “What are you doing up so early?”

“I had a bad dream.”

Wincing in sympathy, Patrick moved to sit next to him. With a sigh that sounded like it belonged to someone at least quadruple his years; Bronx dropped his head into Patrick’s lap, clutching tightly at the remote.  

“Wanna tell me what it was about?” he asked, brushing a lock of hair away from the stern, tired looking face.

“Do you love me, Uncle Patrick?”

“Of course I do, Bronx. I love you very, very much.” And he did. He loved this little boy fiercely, as if he were his own son. “Why did you ask such a silly question?”

“Do you love Daddy?”

“Yes,” Patrick answered without hesitation. “I love your daddy too, he’s my best friend.”

“That’s what Mommy said. She said she loved Daddy. And then another day, she said he was just her friend and left me.”

His hurt expression and misty eyes were enough to bring Patrick close to tears. “Have you been up all night thinking about this? That’s not good for you, monkey, you need to sleep.”

“Daddy loves you,” Bronx murmured into Patrick’s knee, nails digging into his arm where he held on tightly. “I heard Mommy yelling one night. Daddy loves you and the band more than he loved her and now they don’t like each other anymore.”

Heart in his throat, Patrick sat Bronx up, brushed his grimy hair away from his eyes and held his head up with his hands. “Now listen here,” he said gently. “Sometimes people get angry and say things they don’t mean, sometimes they just fall out of love. It’s never anybody’s fault and it doesn’t mean your Mommy and Daddy love you any less, got it?”

There was a moment of silence. “Will you fall out of love with Daddy?” he asked.

Patrick winced. “I love your Daddy,” he corrected, “he’s my best friend but I’m not in love with him. It’s different.”

“How?”

This question took him a while to answer. “I love Pete like a brother or like you love Mommy. You love them a whole lot but you don’t want to marry them.”

“Does Daddy want to marry you?” Bronx asked, looking very interested in the floor.

Patrick laughed because Pete marrying _him_? Sweaty, paunchy, balding Patrick? “No, Bronx, Daddy doesn’t want to marry me.”

“Why not?” Bronx asked angrily, looking up to stare angrily into Patrick’s eyes. “You’re pretty, Uncle Patrick! You’re the prettiest person I ever saw! And you and Daddy love each other a whole lot! You should get married so no one can ever take you away, Daddy always says so!”

Patrick blushed. “Sorry, bud, it just doesn’t work like that.”

“But I don’t want you to go away, Uncle Patrick!” Bronx shouted, hitting him once on the chest with a closed fist. “You can’t go away!” Just like Pete, Patrick thought wryly, why get sad when you can get angry?

“Hey, hey, hey, calm down, you’re going to hurt yourself,” Patrick said, trapping him in a tight hug as he struggled. “Listen, how about this? I promise I will never, ever go away. Not even when I’m old and you want me to.”

 Bronx sniffed, face red as he cried tears of rage. “I’m never gonna want you to go away,” he said disdainfully. Patrick shook him gently, earning himself a soft laugh.

“Then I guess I’m never going to go away,” he teased. Bronx placed a sloppy kiss against Patrick’s neck, pulling back with a familiar impish grin.

_Yup. Just like his father._

“Good,” Bronx said, “and we can get married when I grow up.”

“Let’s focus a bit more on the riding a bike thing, okay, kid? You have your whole life to get married.” Bronx looked like he was about to protest before Patrick added hastily, “now how about some breakfast?”

* * *

 

Patrick smiled at Bronx as the little boy stirred vigorously at the bowl of pancake batter, blond hair tied back in a small bun. “Did I do it right, Uncle Patrick?” he asked, sticking one batter covered finger into his mouth.

Patrick wiped his face with a napkin and gave him a short squeeze. “You did great, little man,” he praised as he took the wooden spoon and dropped it in the sink. “Now, what would you like in your pancakes?”

Bronx observed the two small bowls, one blueberry, the other chocolate chip, critically. “Hmm, hmm, hmm,” he hummed. “Whaddaya you like, Uncle Patrick?” he asked.

“Me? Good question,” Patrick pretended to think about it as he scooped up a ladleful of batter. “I think today feels like a chocolate day, don’t you?”

“Chocolate day!” Bronx cried as Patrick took a handful of candies and poured it onto the sizzling cake. “Best day!”

“You bet your butt it is. Now, go get your plate, bud and Chocolate Day can start.”

“Kay, Uncle Patrick.”

He heard rather than saw Bronx climb over to the cupboard and allowed himself a moment of- _what was that exactly? Want? Regret? Envy?-_ as Bronx placed three Zoo Pal-plates on the counter. “Good job,” he said, shaking off the unhappy feeling as the blond beamed, a completely different picture than from an hour or two ago.

“Look,” Bronx said as Patrick flipped the pancakes over. “It’s you, me and Daddy.”

“Oh?”

Patrick smiled as Bronx lifted up a tiger plate. “This is Daddy,” he explained, “cause of his tiger stripes.” Something cold ran down Patrick’s back as he thought of the stripes Bronx could mean and how much he knew about Pete’s past. He had already proved himself very perceptive, if not inclined to listening in on people’s conversations if he knew so much about the divorce.

The child continued on like nothing had happened. “This is you,” he said, with a bear plate pressed against his cheek. “Cause lions and tigers are best friends like in that story Daddy told me and you and Daddy are bestest friends and this is me, I’m a monkey, cause I like monkeys.” And then he grinned a gap-toothed grin that melted Patrick’s heart.

Unable to resist, Patrick dropped a quick kiss on the crown of the boy’s head, smiling hard. “That’s right, buddy, best friends.”  He plopped the pancakes onto the plates and tucked the syrup bottle under his arm. “What’s say you and I bring Daddy breakfast in bed?” he asked.

Bronx nodded, grinning as he grabbed a handful of forks, Patrick taking two knives for him and Pete. “Shh,” he hissed playfully as Bronx giggled. “We have to be quiet or he’ll hear us!” They stopped outside the door. “Ready? One, two, three!”

He opened the door and Bronx stormed in, diving onto the bed with a war cry of, “Chocolate day, wake up, Daddy! Chocolate day! Chocolate day!”

Pete shot up, hair mussed with sleep as Bronx burrowed into his side, still giggling. “What?” he asked, running a hand over his face. “Bronx? _Patrick_?”

Patrick laughed softly as he sat at the foot of his bed before handing him a plate. “It’s Chocolate day,” he said, “we made pancakes.”

“I helped!” Bronx said, tearing into his breakfast.

Pete looked at Patrick, surprised, and after a moment, smiled so widely Patrick felt his breath catch. “Get over here, Stump,” he ordered, dragging Patrick closer to him by the foot.

Patrick laughed and held the plates above his head as he was pressed to Pete’s naked chest, feeling his friend nuzzle against his head affectionately. “Save the pancakes!” he shouted, kicking out weakly.

Softly, Pete bit his cheek and muttered, quiet enough so Bronx wouldn’t hear, “why not just have you for breakfast, eh, lunchbox?”

“After all the hard work we put in?” he asked, faking outrage, “That would be rude. Now shut up and eat your breakfast, Wentz.” Then Patrick sat up, ignoring the feeling smoldering in his belly as his two favorite people in the world ate, feeling the glances Pete shot him hot against his skin.


End file.
